Tainted
by acata
Summary: She didn't want anyone to touch her.
1. Part One of Three

**This story has been edited by **_sunrisejuliette_ **from **_Perfect Imagination_**.** [07.17.09]

**

* * *

****Tainted**

**Characters:** Hermione Granger, Sirius Black, Harry Potter

**Pairing:** Hermione Granger / Sirius Black

**Rating:** PG-13

**Categories:** Angst; Hurt/Comfort

**Story length: **4372

**Summary:** She didn't want anyone to touch her. //

During the war Hermione did something she considered unforgivable. Unable to cope with the turmoil of feelings, she parts to Germany to pursue her studies and, mainly, to be away from her friends. When Harry asks her to be James' godmother she can't refuse.

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**Tainted **

**1/3**

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After the war, while Harry, Ron and Neville decided to join Kingsley Shacklebolt at the Ministry of Magic, Hermione chose to return to Hogwarts to finish her magical education.

During the school period, it had been easy to hide. She had never been the most sociable person. She had never been the most popular or even that well-liked -- at least not outside most classes. She had been considered annoying, a know-it-all, a show-off and even a boot-licker. The fact that she would rather spend time in the library, surrounded by books, instead of spending it with people never really did much for her popularity either. She often thought about the way she had gotten her best friends, Harry and Ron. It was almost laughable, really. It had taken a mountain troll trying to knock her down in a girls' bathroom for her to gain the friendship of the two boys.

For years, they had been her only real friends. They still were the only ones she trusted, and the fact that they had chosen different paths in life didn't bother or worry her. In a certain way, they were like her. Hermione believed they would be the only people who, if she ever gathered her Gryffindor courage, would understand what she felt.

She recalled considering her graduation day one of the worst days since the war. She should have been happy and proud of herself, like those around her had been; but she almost hadn't been strong enough to stand it. When she thought about that day, she honestly couldn't understand how she had done it, how she could bear it. The handshakes, the hugs, the pats on her back… the kisses. She barely stood all that. Hadn't they seen what she had become? Hadn't they seen or heard of what she had done?

They had. She knew they had. Then why did they congratulate her? Why were they proud of her?

During the summer after her graduation, Hermione had avoided the Burrow like Dragon Pox. She had stayed with Harry in Grimmauld Place, much to Molly Weasley's disappointment. Hermione hardly ever saw Harry, though, especially because of his Auror training and Ginny.

It had been during that summer that Hermione decided to leave England. She had been offered an apprenticeship in Arithmancy with a German Arithmancer, Carl Anzahl, who had sent her his invitation after receiving a letter of reference from Professor Vector, who was a friend of his. She accepted almost instantaneously.

Her apprenticeship had lasted three years. During those three years, Hermione didn't visit her friends, but she sent them letters almost every week.

When she finished her apprenticeship, she still had to work for Carl Anzahl for a year. During that year, Hermione returned to England for two days, to Harry and Ginny's wedding. As she had hoped, she wasn't the center of attentionthat day. She almost felt like before the war. Before all those mistakes. Before one mistake in particular.

During the months after her friends' wedding, Hermione had three dates with young men. Dates were no problem for her, as long as they didn't try to get too close. And as she had expected, none of the men she had dated had wished to pursue a long relationship with her. And who would, when there was no touching? No intimacy?

Then Ginny got pregnant with her first child. A son. Harry and Ginny had already chosen his name but they wouldn't tell anyone. Right after they had found out about her pregnancy, Harry and Ginny asked Hermione to be his godmother and Ron his godfather. Hermione almost choked to death when she read that they wanted her to be his godmother. She had tried to find a way to refuse it, but she knew she couldn't do it. Harry would have been very disappointed with her, and she couldn't lose his friendship. So she had accepted.

When their child was born, Hermione had, once again, returned to England to check on Ginny and her son. A couple of months later, she returned once again to the ceremony. They had named him James Sirius. Ron had been besotted with him and he had had him in his arms practically all day. Hermione hadn't complained.

She had been in Germany for six months when she got another letter from Harry, telling her that something very important had happened. She had stared at the paper for what had seemed hours. For a moment she thought she had been dreaming or maybe she had finally lost her mind.

Harry had to be wrong. It wasn't possible. It just wasn't.

Sirius Black couldn't have returned.

**

* * *

**

Hermione didn't really know why they wanted her there. Sirius and Hermione had never been close. Most of the times they hadn't even been able to be remotely amicable. Uncountable times, they had fought over house-elves' rights and how he treated one elf in particular -- Kreacher; not to mention all those times they had barked at each other in rage when his safety was mentioned.

She now knew that, all those times they fought, they had both been wrong and, at the same time, both of them had been right.

She had been right. Sirius treated Kreacher terribly and that had been the reason the elf had betrayed his own master. But Sirius had some reason in it; at least when it came to his elf. Kreacher was the only thing that still linked to his _beloved_ family. Hermione couldn't imagine how much it had probably pained him to look at the elf every day and remember the way he had been treated by his own parents. But Sirius had been wrong in treating him in such way. Yes, he was a living memory of his family, but it wasn't the elf's fault. If Kreacher was cruel to muggle-born witches, like herself, it was only because he had been molded by Walburga Black. He was what people made of him.

And now she was to stay with him in his house. At least his godson wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Harry..." she started. "It's perfect... but I still think I would be better in a hotel or--"

"Don't be silly, Hermione," Harry said. "It's great to have you here. The house is too big for the four of us anyway."

Hermione sighed and nodded, defeated. "Fine."

"Now go visit Sirius," Harry said, his hands resting on her shoulders. She didn't dare to breathe. "You're the only one who hasn't welcomed him yet."

Hermione took a deep breath. "Yes... I'll go. But... uh... first I just need to go and... uh... check on something."

"Sure!" Harry said, smiling at her. "And maybe, after you see Sirius, you could go downstairs and stay with James just for a while..."

Hermione's eyes widened in fear. "No!" she shouted, before she could help herself.

"No?" Harry asked, looking slightly hurt at her.

"I mean... I... I have to... I have to go to the Ministry's Headquarters…" she said.

"Oh, of course," Harry said, the hurt disappearing from his eyes. "Because of the transference, right?"

"Yes..." Hermione said, feeling miserable. "The transference..."

"Hermione, I'm so happy you're going to stay here. Honestly. Everyone missed you terribly."

"Yes, well... I'll... I'll go now..." Hermione said, pointing awkwardly at her bedroom's door.

"Sure! See you later then," he said, patting her in the arm. Hermione winced at the touch and she knew he noticed, but, fortunately, he didn't say anything.

When he turned his back to her, she practically ran into the room and locked herself in. She couldn't go to the bathroom then. She knew he would notice it and he would soon realise why. She took a deep breath and cast a cleaning spell on herself. It would have to do. Then, she proceeded to unlock the door and leave the room, walking with as much confidence as she could pretend to have. She reached the top of the stairs and knocked on Sirius' door. After hearing him barking a "Come in!" she cautiously opened the door and peeked.

"Hermione?" he asked, looking surprised.

She stood by the entrance, looking at the new decoration of the room. Sirius, noticing this, commented: "Much less offensive, don't you think?" he asked, also looking around himself. Now, instead of red and golden, there was a lot of black and grey and silver and white. It didn't look, at all, the same room.

She looked straight at him, marveling at his appearance. He looked the same. For a moment Hermione was transported to the night they broke into the Ministry of Magic, the night he fell through the Veil, taking with him Harry's hopes of a real family.

Taking another glance at the room, Hermione said, almost smiling, "Your mother would be proud."

He grimaced at her words.

"There's no need to be so rude..." he said, chuckling.

Hermione's eyebrows raised in surprise the moment she noticed that behind him there was a dark, wooden bookshelf. With books in it.

Shaking his head, amused, he said. "There's also no need to look so shocked."

"Sorry," she mumbled, blushing slightly.

Hermione walked towards the bookshelf, ending up brushing her hand against his arm and she almost froze, but she took a deep breath and started checking the volumes he had.

"So... you didn't come to welcome me," he said, leaning against bookshelf.

Hermione bit her lip. "I didn't want to... to suffocate you," she murmured, quickly entwining her hands, not knowing what else to do with them.

"I figured that much," he said, shrugging. "So... you are working in the German Ministry of Magic?"

Hermione cleared her throat and mentally thanked the change of subject. "Actually, before I left Germany I requested a transference. To here."

His brows lifted in surprise. "Really? I thought you didn't like it here..."

Hermione frowned. "I love it here..."

The corner of Sirius mouth irked slightly, "That's not what Harry told me."

Hermione started looking around herself, trying to avoid his eyes.

"I never meant to..." she sighed. "I never meant to hurt anyone..." she said, feeling her voice shaking slightly.

"He loves you, Hermione," Sirius said, walking towards her. When Hermione saw him standing too near her she stepped behind, her hips bumping into his desk. She clasped her hands around the wood almost painfully and looked up at Sirius, her heart pounding in her chest. He had been about to _touch_ her.

"He's worried about you," he murmured, looking at her hands for a moment, before turning his eyes to her face.

Hermione nodded slightly, not knowing what else to do.

"Does he already know you are going to work here?" he asked, stepping behind.

She nodded again. "I told him a couple of minutes ago."

"I bet he was pleased," Sirius said.

Hermione shrugged. "I suppose."

"He'll be able to keep an eye on you," he said, his eyes piercing into her own.

Hermione frowned. "I can take care of myself," she said, rather harshly, before turning her back to him and heading towards the door.

"Of course you can," she heard him saying before she closed the door noisily.

Outside Sirius' room, Hermione placed her hands on her lips, to prevent her sobs from being heard.

* * *


	2. Part Two of Three

**Tainted**

**2 / 3**

* * *

It was the touching. She couldn't stand it.

At first she hadn't known why exactly, but she hadn't been able to let someone touch her without flinching and running to the bathroom as soon as she was able, to wash the touched area.

Hugging, kissing, having their arms on her shoulders or around her waist, touching her shoulders to get her attention, touching her rosy cheeks or the tip of her pert nose, shaking hands and even only casual bumping into someone down some street. She couldn't bear it.

It had changed, though. Now she couldn't only wash the touched area. The moment she was free she would go to the bathroom and take a shower. She needed to feel the hot water burning her flesh, sinking in her skin, taking away the _dirt_. The _filth_.

The first time she realised what and the reasons why she had done it, she had been horrified at her actions and her thoughts, but when she realised it wasn't the contact itself that made her have that reaction she felt better, relieved almost, as if it was already acceptable.

It wasn't the fact that someone reached out for her. It wasn't because of the skin-to-skin contact.

It was what the contact made her remember. What it made her feel.

She had seen people she cared about dying. She hadn't even been able to protect her own parents. But the worst of all was that she had _killed_ people. It didn't matter that it had been to protect herself and those she loved. It didn't matter that, perhaps, they had deserved to die. It didn't even matter that they would have killed her if she had given them the chance. She had used the Killing Curse. An Unforgivable.

For one to use the Killing Curse one had to _mean_ it. One had to deliberately want to end with someone's life. It was intrinsic to the curse. It was the main ingredient.

She was a murderer and that was the reason she didn't want them touching her. She was dirty. And _he_ knew.

She should have been more careful. He knew and he didn't get near her. She was certain he thought she was disgusting, unworthy.

She suspected he had known that something was wrong with her since around her birthday. Her birthday. She hated her birthdays. Everyone wanted to hug her and congratulate her and tell her how much they were proud of her. She always smiled and nodded. The only thing that comforted her was that she knew she would end up in the bathroom, washing her skin until it became red. She never let her skin bleed, though. If she bled then she would have to wash herself again. Her blood was dirty too.

* * *

She had been in the bathroom for hours. She had filled the bathtub with water and when she stepped in some of it had spilled, creating a puddle on the floor of the bathroom. She had laid in tube, in the burning water, for as long as she had stood. Then she started her ritual. She washed her hair three times. That day Ron had tucked a stray of hair behind her ear. Now that she thought about it, she would have to wash her ears too. She washed her hair until all she could smell was the shampoo. When she finished her hair, she started cleaning her body. Her arms, her legs, her back, her neck, her chest and she gave special attention to her hands. She washed them until her skin was red.

Hemione sighed. She was still dirty. The baths were more of a habit. She had found out that they wouldn't take away the dirt. She could take a thousand showers; she could wash her skin until the slightest, gentlest touch would be utterly painful, but she would still feel dirty.

Her only hope, her only illusion was ruined. What was she going to do now that she knew the showers didn't clean her crimes away?

She turned on the tap and sat in the bathtub, with the water hitting her back. She hugged her legs and stood there for a long time, thinking of other ways. There had to be at least another way. She couldn't let her beloved ones touch her now that she knew the water wasn't the cure to her problems.

She could always leave… Yes, certainly she would find a job back in Germany. She liked it there. People didn't touch her. They were more reserved.

She looked at her hands. How could have Harry let her hold his daughter? She knew he knew. And she bet he didn't want her near his children. She couldn't blame him. She couldn't be allowed to touch them. They were clean. They were unadulterated. They were pure. Innocent. If she touched them, she would mark them, she would taint them and they would no longer be uncorrupted.

She had been absorbed, thinking of what job she would take in Germany, she didn't even hear the door being closed. It was only when someone threw a towel around her shoulders that she realised someone was in there.

"_No_!" she shouted, getting up from her position in a blink of an eye. "No! No!"

"_Stop_!" he hissed, reaching his hand to stop the water from running and hitting both of them.

She stopped, holding the towel around her shoulders. The towel was big enough to cover her body and it was already wet on the tips, where it had been in contact with the water of the bathtub. She looked at him.

"Come here," he said, reaching his arms to help her out of the tub.

"No!" she shouted again. "Don't _touch_ me!"

He ignored her screams and wrapped his arms around her waist. She tried to get away from him but she couldn't. Where would she run to? She was trapped in his arms. She panicked. He wasn't as pure as the children, of course, but he was still _innocent_. He wouldn't be there if he wasn't. She was covering him with her dirt. She looked around, seeking a way out. It was pointless. He was holding her too tight. She couldn't make the slight move.

"Yes, well," he said. "You can take another bath later, I need to speak to you _now_."

"Sirius," she whispered, refusing to look at his eyes. She was sure she would find disgust, maybe even hatred, in his grey eyes. "Don't touch me…" she murmured, weakly.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, soothingly, but not sounding sorry at all. "I know I'm a dirty dog. You'll clean yourself later. I _need_ to talk to you."

She looked up at him, shocked. He didn't look hurt or shocked. His grey eyes didn't show any disdain or even disturbance. Far from it. He was concerned and confused. Her eyes fell to his chest. She didn't need to see it his eyes. She was sure that amongst his concern and confusion there had to be, at least, a bit of hurt. She didn't want to see it, so, instead, she looked at his chest. His shirt was wet. Her fault, no doubt. He would have to take a bath later. Her hair was dripping, wetting his shirt, drops of water rolled down her body and wetted her towel and the carpet under her bare feet.

She hadn't been expecting him. Harry yes. She had seen Harry's worried, confused looks, but she had never suspected Sirius knew. She didn't want to think of the ways he could have found it.

But she had to tell him. He was wrong. He wasn't a _dirty dog_. He wasn't.

"You're not," she whispered. "I am."

He frowned. "I am sorry... You are what?"

"You aren't, Sirius. You aren't. _Please_ understand." she pleaded, looking up at him.

"Okay... Okay. I am not…"

"I am. I am the one who is..." she mumbled.

"You are what, Hermione?"

She looked up at him. Her brown eyes, always so bright and intelligent, were almost lifeless "_Filthy_" she whispered.

He opened his mouth and closed, aghast.

"Hermione--"

"I tried. I _swear_ I did." she said. She needed him to know she had tried. She didn't want him to hate her. "I tried to clean myself… but it doesn't work... It doesn't work. Not anymore..." she repeated. She was aware of the fact that she probably sounded insane, but she couldn't find another way of expressing herself.

"That baths--" he started.

"They were supposed to take away the _filth_," she said, nodding vigorously. Maybe he would understand after all. He hadn't let go of her, but he would. He was just in shock. The moment he realised she was tainted, he would let go of her. And he wouldn't let her come closer to James and Lily. She knew he would protect them from her. Maybe he would even ask her to leave Grimmauld Place...

"Hermione..."

She started weeping. "I did something terrible," she sniffed. "Something unforgivable."

"Hermione..."

"It was during the war..."

"Hermione," Sirius interrupted. "Harry told me everything about the war," he said, grabbing her arms tightly. "Hermione, you had to _do_ it and you had to _mean_ it," he said.

She shook her head, mumbling something incomprehensible.

"They would have killed you" he said, almost in disdain.

"Then I should have died."

Sirius sighed. "Hermione, look at me."

She shook her head and pursed her lips, so that she wouldn't start sobbing.

"We are never truly pure, Hermione," Sirius said, holding Hermione's face. "Every single person is, at least, a bit damaged... a bit tainted."

"Not the children..." she sobbed.

"But they will be. It's inevitable, Hermione... and you can't do anything to stop it... and you will not make it worse," he added when he saw her opening her mouth to retort. "Come on... You _know_ I'm right."

Hermione's lips started trembling. She gasped a couple of times, trying to control herself, but she just couldn't. She gripped his already wet shirt and clung to it desperately, feeling as if she was being given her chance for redemption.

* * *


	3. Part Three of Three

**Tainted**

**3/3**

* * *

Sirius walked to stand behind her. She glanced at him and smiled before quickly turning her head towards the scarlet train. James, her godson, had gone inside a couple of minutes ago and was now waving his family goodbye through the window of his compartment. He was going to his first year at Hogwarts.

When the train started moving, all the family started waving back at James, and only when it was too far for him to see anything they stopped.

Looking at the red spot in the horizon, she felt Sirius placing a hand on her shoulder. Absently, she took her hand and placed upon his, lightly grabbing it for a second before letting it simply lay there.

* * *

Before everything turned out just fine, she went through the worst phase of her life.

After Sirius made her get out of the bathroom and asked her to get dressed and then to go downstairs to talk to him, she had actually run away and returned to Germany. Everyone had wanted to bring her back to England and help her, but, somehow, Harry and Sirius had managed to convince everyone that she needed time.

One day, months after her runaway, she simply gathered her Gryffindor courage and visited a Muggle-born psychiatrist. She had only asked for one thing. She didn't want to be medicated. She knew that if she started taking something, she would end up addicted to it.

During many, many months, Hermione had felt worse than ever before. She had understood what Sirius had meant when he told her that it hadn't been her fault, but that hadn't been enough for her to stop feeling guilty. She couldn't help feeling it.

She remembered a particular period in which she really thought she was going to go insane. She had felt as if an invisible hand was grabbing her heart, squeezing it, making it almost impossible to breathe. It had been the most horrible experience she had ever had. Something she couldn't define, but which was definitely wrong, filled her, covering every bit of her being until she was sure she would simply explode, because she was quickly losing space and strength to bear it.

It was worse than being surrounded by Dementors.

She would have gladly given up all her memories, good and bad; she would have deliberately hand them to the creatures, if only she could have stopped _feeling_.

In a way, it was thanks to Sirius that she was had gotten better. He had pushed her in a way that made part of her break and ignore all her instincts which made her step behind every time someone wanted to touch her. In the end, she had been the one holding onto him. It had been thanks to him that she had rediscovered touch. Until that moment, she had never realised how much she had missed it, how much she had needed it. She rediscovered what the simple act of touching could offer.

When she realised all these things, she returned.

* * *

They were all walking towards the exit of the train station. Hermione and Sirius were walking behind the others, who didn't pay attention them. While they walked, Sirius rested his hand on her lower back, guiding her through the multitude of people.

"You know…" Hermione started, before someone bumped into her, interrupting her train of thought. After glaring at whoever bumped into her, Sirius looked down at her curiously and nodded, encouraging her to continue.

"Even after all this time, I still can't believe they gave the poor child the name James Sirius..."

He snorted.

"Why not?" Sirius asked, raising a dark eyebrow at her. "I heard he was named after two _incredibly_ intelligent, _amazingly_ powerful and _extremely_ handsome wizards," he said, grinning at her.

Hermione threw her head back in laughter. When she recovered from her fit she looked up at him and shook her head, as if not believing.

"Yes... _you_ would think that..." she said.

"But I understand you... in a way," he admitted, smiling at her. "The kid is going to be trouble."

"Indeed."

"Although... I should have taught him some things before he left to Hogwarts... Only a couple of tricks, of course... Only what he will need to know to _survive_... Maybe during Christmas break, eh?"

"_Sirius Black_!" she squeaked, narrowing her eyes at him. "You cannot do that!"

Sirius barked in laughter.

"Besides..." Hermione started, trying to hide a smile. "You do know _who_ his godmother is, right?"

That made him stop laughing immediately.

"Aw, Hermione," he said, pouting slightly before playfully hitting her in the arm. "You're no fun."

Smiling, she grabbed his hand and pushed him, to make him walk faster, so that they'd walk closer to the others.

_Fim._

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End file.
